♡₊˚ 🦢🍵🪷・₊✧ @everlastingkitten - Tumblr Blog

hii i post moodboards and icons of ppl i like. ( i also vent here so u can block #everlastingkitten if u dont wanna see that )

other than that im a fan of twd, the pitt, house md, marvel, gilmore girls, criminal minds, peacemaker, avatar , st and many more!!! feel free to send asks if u want!!! 🪽

#intro

greengableslover

JANE EYRE (2011) dir. Cary Joji Fukunaga

euroic

#norman reedus

dendelon

He’s so fine omg

#normanreedus #norman #norman reedus #norman fucking reedus #girlblogging

theroseinthedarkness

JANE EYRE (2011)

Cary Fukunaga

didanagy

JANE EYRE (2011)

dir. cary joji fukunaga

20thcenturystarlet

Mia Wasikowska bts Jane Eyre, 2011

smarty art chicks you can put it in my video

#moodboard #moody aesthetic #art

kalista-101

｡𖦹‧DRUNK WORDS, SOBER THOUGHTS ⋆✴︎ ˚｡⋆ ⌕

sherlock holmes x childhood bsf reader

summary: after hearing about your engagement, sherlock decides to drown his sorrows by drinking.

content: NOT angst (you’ll see lmao), fluff, confession, drunk sherlock😋.

word count: 1k~

a/n: I wrote this instead of sleeping, you’re welcome.

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ｡ 𖦹 ⋆ ✴︎ ˚｡⋆ ⌕ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

KNOCK KNOCK

“Sherlock?”

Whatever I was expecting, the sight that came before me as the door opened was not that: Sherlock looking somewhat disheveled - hair tousled, loosened tie, undone top button, and suit jacket discarded - for the first time since possibly he was born.

The culprit was soon revealed when I detected the lingering scent of whiskey in the air.

“Y/n?” He breathed out, confusion bringing him briefly to his senses. “What are you doing here?”

I entered the room to assess just how bad the damage was.

The room was a complete mess.

So, not too bad then.

Until I saw the piles of sheet music spread across his desk.

Oh dear. Sherlock only played violin alone when something was truly vexing him.

“I saw Enola this morning, and she told me to visit you in the evening,” I explained, searching the place for an indication of what may have been troubling him so - a latest case presumably. “She said you may need some help.”

“Did she now?” Sherlock smiled as if with irony as he closed the door.

Unable to come to a conclusion, I leant against his desk and crossed my arms. “What’s bothering you?”

He sighed and reached to pour himself more whiskey. I instantly leant forward and stopped his hand, ignoring the spark from the rare moment of contact.

When my look of concern didn’t seem convincing enough, I scoffed in amusement. “You know, I never thought I’d see you like this.”

“However do you mean?” He practically slurred, clumsily setting himself on his couch.

“Drunk.” I said pointedly and laughed.

He hummed in acknowledgment, with underlying annoyance clearly evident as he asked: “has Enola sent you to admonish me?”

“I don’t know why she sent me here. So I’ll ask again - what’s wrong?”

He sighed deeply and dragged a hand down his face with his neck craned back, debating for a moment before finally speaking again. “Why are you getting married?”

“Married?”

“Enola told me about Lord Elwes’ proposal.”

It took me a moment to process what he had said, then I grinned and rolled my eyes, but he didn’t see due to his hand resting over his eyes. “Did she now?”

Another sigh.

Then he asked, with desperation to comprehend: “is that truly what you want?”

“This is what has you so worked up?” I seated myself on the arm rest of the couch, a smug expression appearing on my face. Sherlock - a man who always kept his emotions in check and had so much control it was aggravating - rendered to such a state at the mere thought of me being engaged to another.

He watched me carefully as I moved. “What could marriage possibly offer a mind as brilliant as yours?”

I held back a laugh. It was always the same subtle compliment: implying that I was brighter, somehow better than others, and leaving it at that. I don’t think he realised that placing me on a pedestal was based on a matter of opinion and not fact.

“You’ve known me long enough to know I hold no grievances with the idea of marrying, as long as it’s for love.”

“In that case, what can he offer you?” Sherlock said as if Elwes had personally insulted him, leaning forward to settle his gaze over me; intense and whispering unspoken words.

I realised in that moment that he was jealous. Sherlock Holmes. Jealous.

“Don’t tell me you-” he cut himself off, like he was unable to say the words and stood to pour himself another glass. It was emptied in an instant.

I didn’t stop him. I could tell this drink was for confidence.

“Do you love him?” He asked after, slowly closing the distance between us to analyse my expression: surprise, incredulity, and fluster from the way his arms were positioned either side of me - so close I could feel the heat radiating off him.

“What difference does it make to you?”

He seemed taken aback by the sudden frustration in my voice. I was too. But it just wasn’t fair - the unspoken tension lingering between us for years, and him always keeping a firm hold of his emotions.

But now, only now, was his resolve finally slipping?

“Y/n-” he began, but immediately held his head in pain and winced.

I may have underestimated how much he drank before I arrived…

“Sherlock, you need to lie down.”

“No, I’m fine-” he had started to argue, but I was already turning his broad shoulders towards the couch again. He let me guide him. The thin material of his white shirt was doing absolutely nothing to hide the feeling of his muscles under my palms, but I pushed that thought to the back of my mind.

As I set him back gentle, his eyes fluttered closed, the alcohol clearly taking its effect.

“You know, for a genius, you never cease to amaze me with your stupidity.” I scolded, without any weight behind my words.

He seemed so out of it, I was pretty certain he fell unconscious the second his head hit the arm rest.

Then, when I turned to fetch him a glass of water, his hand clutched onto mine - the heat feeling strikingly electric.

“Stay,” the plea left his lips in such breathlessness I almost thought I misheard. “Please stay.”

“I’m just getting water.” I assured, gently tugging my hand back despite wanting to hold on for longer.

“Don’t marry him, Y/n.”

“Sherlock, don’t say something you’ll regret.”

“Please, just give me time,” he slowly sat up, staring as if right into my soul, and lightly coaxed my hand to move me to sit besides him. “I can give you everything you deserve. Everything. A great big estate with as many of those animals you care so much for. I’d build a library just for you with every book you desired-”

“Sherlock-”

“And all the love I know you’ve wished for since you read about it in those fairytales when we were children. More so than any other man ever could,” he pinned me with his gaze, letting each words - falling as lovely as honey - hit with meaning. “Because, although I may have a funny way of showing it, I truly believe - no, I know - that I love you more than anyone could ever dream to. Endlessly.”

That was everything and more that I’d ever wanted to hear for him for the longest time. After years of hesitant words, touches that lingered longer than they should’ve, moments that stayed with us well after they’d passed: a final breaking point.

I just couldn’t believe how much it took to get here.

“You love me?” I almost didn’t believe he was finally letting the restraint crumble.

“With all my heart and mind.”

That somehow meant even more.

Sherlock attempted to analyse my reaction, as if a weight had been lifted from the confession but he was still preparing for the harsh sting of rejection.

“Are you going to regret this in the morning?” I laughed, giving away the emotions I felt.

“No,” he said with a soft smile and resolute certainty. “I’ve waited too long to say that. I guess a drunk mind speaks the sober heart.”

“In vino veritas.” I reference the ancient latin proverb we both now understood all too well: in wine, truth.

✴︎ ˚｡⋆ ⌕

The next morning I was awakened by frantic knocking on my door. Although, I already knew who it would be.

“Sherlock.” I said with a knowing grin. Seemed it was time for him to deal with the consequences of his actions after the previous night, where I had left him with a glass of water and a note telling him to go easy on the whisky next time.

He breathed out in embarrassment, before meeting my eyes. “You were never engaged to Lord Elwes.”

“How did you figure that one out?” I asked satirically.

Enola had told me in the past that she was determined to make her brother come to his senses and finally confess. I hadn’t realised until the previous night just how far she was willing to go.

I held the door wider and he entered cautiously, aware of his every move.

“Tell me, do you regret anything now?”

Sherlock visibly relaxed and shook his head. “Those were thoughts I held in my heart for too long. Last night, I can only apologise that it took a false engagement and the confidence alcohol offers to finally share them.”

I leant against my desk, waiting as he thought about his next words.

“But I was relieved to learn the truth,” his eyes drifted to my desk, suddenly shy from the vulnerability. “I know I’m not the best at being open with emotions, but I want to try. For you.”

Suddenly his head snapped back to me. “Although, you never did give me a response.”

“You were drunk!”

“I was sober enough when confessing!”

I let out a breath of amusement, completely content and satisfied, before pulling him closer by his shirt collar and placing a quick kiss on his lips. “Does that answer your question?”

He smiled, incredibly smug. “No, I think you’d better try again.”